The Shadowers by Donald Hamilton Read Free Book Online

to... No?” I said. “You don’t like that one, either?”
    “No,” she said. “I don’t like that one, either.”
    I sighed. “Lady,” I said, “you are very hard to suit. How about this? I’m a government man, see, and I’ve got a big deal cooking all about spies and saboteurs and stuff, only just as I’m about to make contact with one of my fellow agents, feminine gender, I see a man watching. He’s got her spotted, obviously, but there’s still hope that I can keep clear if I... No, that won’t work.”
    She was looking at me intently. She touched her lips with her tongue. “Why not, Paul? Why won’t it work?”
    “Well, hell,” I said, “if I were really a government man, I’d have identification, wouldn’t I? I’d be just lousy with identification. Did you ever see a government man yet who wasn’t ready to flash his buzzer at the drop of a hat?”
    “And you haven’t got identification?”
    “Not the lousiest little bit, doll. I mean, Miss Vail. I’m the most unidentified man you ever saw, Miss Vail.”
    She said slowly, still watching me, “I think you’re one of the cleverest men I ever saw, too, Paul.” Her voice was cool. “You want something for nothing, don’t you? Well, not for nothing. But for the price of a dinner you want silence and cooperation without committing yourself one tiny little bit. Do you think that’s a fair deal?”
    I shook my head. “No. Only a damn fool would buy a deal like that. Or a girl who likes steak and champagne and isn’t scared of a touch of mystery.”
    There was a short silence. She reached out and placed her hand on top of mine. “All right,” she breathed. “All right. If that’s all you’re going to tell me.”
    “I haven’t told you anything, Miss Vail. Not a damn thing. Anything you want to guess is up to you, but it’s strictly a guess.”
    “I’m not sure I want you for a friend,” she said. “I’m not sure I trust you enough to call you friend.” She patted my hand lightly, and sat back, smiling. Everything was settled in her mind, and she murmured, “But I think you’d better start calling me Toni just the same.”

6
    She lived within walking distance of the restaurant, technically speaking, although I wouldn’t have wanted to hike that far on a cool fall night in a thin dress and high heels. But she was still young enough to feel that taxis were corny and walking was reckless and gay— or perhaps she just had some natural reservations about sharing a dark back seat with me and my knife.
    Anyway, coming out of the restaurant, I took off my suit coat and put it around her to keep her from freezing, and we hoofed it gaily through narrow streets with shabby old buildings, some with ornamental ironwork on windows and balconies, very picturesque if you like old architecture. I was more interested in the question of whether or not we were being tailed. On foot, in that ancient neighborhood of twisty little lanes, it was hard to tell. If somebody was shadowing us, he was good—but then he would be. That was his business, shadowing. That was why he’d been assigned to Olivia Mariassy in the first place.
    Toni’s room, apartment, studio, or pad—whatever they called it locally—was up two sights of narrow dusty stairs right under the roof. I couldn’t help thinking it would be an oven in a New Orleans summer. She stopped on the landing and gave me back my coat.
    “Thanks,” she said. She found a key in her purse, unlocked the door, and looked up with her hand on the knob. She spoke in a voice from which all expression had been carefully removed. “Would you like to come in?”
    I said, getting into my coat, “That’s no way to put it, doll. You’re not really concerned with my likes and dislikes, only with my intentions. Sure I’d like to come in. What do you think I am, a eunuch or something? But I’m not coming, thanks just the same.”
    She smiled faintly, as if she’d proved something about me, and maybe she