the Third Twin (1996)

“You’ll come to the press conference with me in the morning, and right afterward we’ll go see Henry Quinn.”

It’s too risky!

Don’t panic, think.

If I stayed here, I would know exactly what these three creeps are up to at any moment. That’s worth a degree of risk I guess nothing much can happen while I’m asleep. I could sneak a call to Jeannie, to let her know what’s going on. He made a split-second decision. “Okay,” he said.

Proust said: “Well, we’ve been sitting here worrying ourselves to death for nothing.”

Barck was not quite so quick to accept the good news. He said suspiciously: “It didn’t occur to the girl to try and sabotage the takeover of Genetico?”

“She’s smart, but I don’t think she’s business minded,” Steve said.

Proust winked and said: “What’s she like in the sack, eh?”

“Feisty,” Steve said with a grin, and Proust roared with laughter.

Marianne came in with a tray: sliced chicken, a salad with onions, bread, and a Budweiser. Steve smiled at her. “Thank you,” he said. “This looks great.”

She gave him a startled look, and Steve realized Harvey probably did not say “thank you” very often. He caught the eye of Preston Barck, who was frowning. Careful, careful! Don’t spoil it now, you’ve got them where you want them. All you have to do is get through the next hour or so until bedtime.

He started to eat. Barck said: “Do you remember me taking you to the Plaza hotel in New York for lunch when you were ten years old?’

Steve was about to say “Yes” when he caught the trace of a puzzled frown on Berrington’s face. Is this a test? Is Barck suspicious? “The Plaza?” he said with a frown. Either way, he could give only one answer. “Gee, Uncle Preston, I don’t remember that.”

“Maybe it was my sister’s boy,” Barck said.

Whew.

Berrington got up. “All that beer is making me piss like a horse,” he said. He went out.

“I need a scotch,” Proust said.

Steve said: “Try the bottom drawer of the file cabinet. That’s where Dad usually keeps it.”

Proust went to the cabinet and opened the drawer. “Well done, boy!” he said. He took out the bottle and some glasses.

“I’ve known about that hiding place since I was twelve years old,” Steve said. “That was when I started stealing it.”

Proust roared with laughter. Steve stole a glance at Barck. The wary look had gone from his face, and he was smiling.

60

MR. OLIVER PRODUCED AN ENORMOUS PISTOL HE HAD KEPT from World War II. “Took it off a German prisoner,” he said. “Colored soldiers weren’t generally allowed to carry firearms in those days.” He sat on Jeannie’s couch, pointing the gun at Harvey.

Lisa was on the phone, trying to find George Dassault.

Jeannie said: “I’m going to check myself into the hotel and reconnoiter.” She put a few things into a suitcase and drove to the Stouffer Hotel, thinking about how they would get Harvey to a room without attracting the attention of hotel security.

The Stouffer had an underground garage; that was a good start. She left her car there and took the elevator. It went only to the lobby, not to the rooms, she observed. To get to the rooms you had to take another elevator. But all elevators were grouped together in a passageway off the main lobby, not visible from the reception desk, and it would take only a few seconds to cross the passage from the garage elevator to the room elevator. Would they be carrying Harvey, or dragging him, or would he be cooperative and walk? She found it difficult to envisage.

She checked in, went to her room, put down her suitcase, then left immediately and drove back to her apartment.

“I reached George Dassault!” Lisa said excitedly as soon as she walked in.

“That’s great! Where?”

“I found his mother in Buffalo, and she gave me his number in New York. He’s an actor in a play off-off-off-Broadway.”

“Will he come tomorrow?”

“Yes. ‘I’ll do anything for publicity,’ he said. I fixed up his flight and I said I’d meet him at the airport.”

“That’s wonderful!”

“We’ll have three clones: it will look incredible on TV.”

“If we can get Harvey into the hotel.” Jeannie turned to Mr. Oliver. “We can avoid the hotel doorman by driving into the underground garage. The garage elevator goes only as far as the ground floor of the hotel. You have to get out there and get another elevator to the rooms. But the elevator bank is kind of concealed.”

Mr. Oliver said dubiously: “All the same, we’re going to have to keep him quiet for a good five, maybe ten, minutes while we get him from the car to the room. And what if some of the hotel guests see him all tied up? They might ask questions, or call security.”