The Delicate Ape (1944) by Dorothy B. Hughes

Author:Dorothy B. Hughes
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9781480427006
Publisher: Mysteriouspress.Com/Open Road
Published: 2013-05-07T21:47:00+00:00

t distinguish the name but Watkins’ hand was firm. The elevator crept. And then he was in a hotel room, nothing of grandeur, just a room. Watkins urging, “Don’t lie down there. Get under the shower, cold.” And Watkins speaking into the phone while Piers wavered to the bath, “Send up two of the biggest steaks in the kitchen. All that goes with it. Plenty of strong coffee.”

Piers let the cold water smash at him. He wasn’t so sleepy when he came out but his head was still light.

Watkins asked, “Better?”

“Yes, thanks. I need food.”

“It’s coming. What were you saying about Gordon—Secretary Gordon?”

Piers put on the dirty suit again. No wonder the glances of the men on the street had been strange. The substantial Watkins upholding a man in a grimy gray suit.

“Yes.”

“Anstruther isn’t coming back?”

“Did I say that?” His eyes focused hard now. “It must be between us, Bertie. I can trust you as before?”

“Yes.” Watkins’ mouth was tight. “God help us, yes.”

“How much do you know?”

“Anstruther’s missing. That’s no secret. Evanhurst is keeping me holed here just to listen in, to get word to him fast. Any crumb.”

“I’ve given you a loaf.”

“Don’t worry. Tell me what’s happened.”

He couldn’t tell Watkins all despite his trust. “No one knows. He hasn’t been heard from. Since he left Alex.”

“And you saw him off.”

“You know that.” He spoke wearily. “Everyone knows that. It ends right there.”

“And Gordon?”

“He’s Secretary. This afternoon. By official decree. It won’t be announced until the Conclave opens.”

Watkins repeated his prayer. “God help us.”

“You know Gordon?”

“He’s Evanhurst’s delight. An example to us duds.” He broke off. “There’s food.”

The waiter wheeled in the table. The scent of the meat made Piers’ head turn faster.

“Don’t get up,” Watkins said. “We’ll put it there.”

The waiter fixed the table in front of Piers, uncovered dishes.

Watkins said, “We’ll manage the rest.” He shut the man from the room, pulled up a chair and seated himself across. “Eat now. Don’t talk until you’ve eaten.”

Piers wolfed at the food. He felt better at once. If Gordon had tried to put him out, the dinner was counteracting the drug.

“How did it happen to be Gordon?”

“Who else? The President didn’t know me; he doesn’t know I’d have been Anstruther’s choice. Gordon got there first. Not that it would have made any difference.”

“You know where Gordon stands?”

“Yes.”

“There’s no doubt?”

“None at all.” He thought of Morgen’s flesh. “None at all.”

Watkins lifted his coffee cup.

“I’m not beaten yet,” Piers said. “I’m whipped but I’m not beaten. I won’t be.”

“You can’t be. There’s so few of us to stand for peace.”

Piers hesitated. “You’d be named if anything happened to Evanhurst?”

Watkins was motionless. “Yes.”

“He’s an old man. Something could happen.”

“These opportune events do not often occur.” Watkins scooped a spoon of ice cream.

“Something could happen to him,” Piers repeated stubbornly.

For a moment nothing changed, then the man’s face turned dusty. The spoon clanged to the table. He shook a fierce head. “No. No. Nothing like that.”

“I’m not suggesting death, Bert,” Piers told him quickly.

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