The Tightrope Men / The Enemy

‘For Christ’s sake!’ said McCready. ‘Do you know what you’re doing?’

‘I know,’ said Carey. ‘But just work this one out while you’re taking Denison back. When the attempt was being made on Denison’s life at the Spiralen who was being attacked – Denison or Meyrick?’

McCready opened his mouth slowly while his mind spun. Carey said, ‘Denison must be watched. The guard on his room stays and I want somebody outside keeping an eye on his window. And I want that whole bloody hotel sewn up tight. Now get cracking.’

McCready dropped Denison off in the garage of the hotel. ‘I won’t come up,’ he said. ‘But I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Which is today. God, it’s nearly five o’clock in the morning. You get to bed.’

They had both been silent during the short drive. Now Denison said, ‘What was all that about? I understood the first doctor, but the second was a psychiatrist, wasn’t he?’

McCready said, ‘Carey will be seeing you tomorrow. He’ll explain everything.’ He paused, biting his lip. ‘I promise you.’

‘All right,’ said Denison. ‘I’m too tired to argue now. But Carey had better come up with something good.’ He nodded to McCready and walked towards the stairs. He did not look back, but if he had and if he had been able to interpret the look in McCready’s eyes he might have recognized compassion.

Denison opened the door leading into the hotel lobby and saw suitcases stacked into a pile. There was a peal of laughter from the group of early arrivals, a crowd of young people who adorned the lobby like butterflies. He walked towards the porter’s desk and stood waiting while the overworked night porter did his best to deal with the rush.

At last, Denison caught his eye, and said, Three-sixty, please.’

‘Yes, Mr Meyrick.’ The porter unhooked the key.

Denison did not see the girl who stared at him in surprise, but heard the cool voice behind him saying, ‘Daddy!’ He turned leisurely and was suddenly and horrifyingly aware that the young woman was addressing him.

ELEVEN (#ulink_d14622c6-1fdb-5131-81c8-c0d7df8c04e1)

It was greatly to Denison’s credit that he did not panic. His first impulse was to step back and deny he was Meyrick – that it was a question of mistaken identity. Hard on that decision came the realization that it would not do; the night porter knew his name and was within earshot, and, in any case, a disclaimer in the hotel lobby was sure to create a fuss. He cancelled the impulse.

She was kissing him and he felt his own lips hard and unresponsive. Perhaps it was his lack of reaction that caused her to step back, the smile fading from her face. She said, ‘I was hoping to find you here, but I hardly expected to run into you in the same hotel – and at five in the morning. What are you doing up so early – or so late?’

She was young – not much more than twenty – and had the clear eyes and clear skin of youth. Her eyes were grey and her mouth wide and generous, perhaps too wide for perfect beauty. To the untutored male eye she wore no make-up but perhaps that was a tribute to skill.

He swallowed. ‘I was visiting a friend; the talk tended to go on a bit.’

‘Oh.’ She thrust her hands deep into the pockets of her motoring coat and turned her head to look at the harassed porter. ‘It’s going to take hours before I get my room. Can I freshen up in yours? I must look a sight.’

His mouth was dry and, for a moment, he could not speak. She looked at him curiously. ‘You are staying here?’ Then she laughed. ‘Of course you are; you have the key in your hand.’

‘I just have to make a telephone call,’ he said, and stepped away slightly, disengaging himself.

‘Why not from the room?’

‘It’s just as easy from down here.’ He walked away to the public telephones, fumbling in his pocket for coins.

The public telephones were not in booths but were surrounded by large transparent plastic hoods which theoretically would keep conversations private. He was aware that the girl had followed him and was standing close by. He took out his wallet, extracted a slip of paper, and dialled the number. The ringing sound buzzed in his ear six times, and then a voice said, ‘Yes?’

He kept his voice low. ‘I want Carey.’

‘You’ll have to speak up. I can’t hear you.’

He raised his voice a little. ‘I want to talk to Carey.’

Doubtfully: ‘I don’t think that’s possible. He’s in bed.’

‘I don’t care if he’s in his coffin. Get him up. This is Denison.’

There was a sharp intake of breath. ‘Right!’

In a remarkably short time Carey came on the line. ‘Denison?’

‘It’s trouble. Meyrick’s …’

Carey cut in with a voice like gravel. ‘How did you know to ring this number?’

‘For God’s sake! That can wait.’

‘How did you know?’ insisted Carey.

‘There was a telephone in the room where I saw the doctors,’ said Denison. ‘I took the number off that.’

‘Oh!’ said Carey. Then, with grudging respect, ‘Harding said you were competent; now I believe him. All right; what’s your problem?’

‘Meyrick’s daughter has just pitched up at the hotel.’

The telephone blasted in his ear. ‘What!’

‘What the hell am I to do?’ said Denison desperately. ‘I don’t even know her bloody name.’

‘Jesus H. Christ!’ said Carey. ‘Wait a minute.’ There was a confused murmur and then Carey said, ‘Her name is Lyn – L-Y-N.’

‘Do you know anything else about her?’

‘How the devil would I?’ demanded Carey. ‘Not off the top of my head.’

‘Damn you!’ said Denison violently. ‘I have to talk to this girl. I must know something about her. She’s my daughter.’

‘Is she there now?’

Denison looked sideways through the plastic hood. ‘She’s standing within ten feet of me. I’m in the hotel lobby and I don’t know how soundproof this canopy is. She wants to come to my room.’

‘I’ll do what I can,’ said Carey. ‘Hold on.’

‘Make it quick.’ Out of the corner of his eye he saw the girl walking towards him. He put his head around the edge of the hood, and said, ‘I won’t be a minute, Lyn. Is there anything you want to take up to the room?’

‘Oh, yes; my little travelling bag. I’ll go and get it.’

He watched her walk across the lobby with a bouncing stride, and felt the sweat break out on his forehead. Carey came back on the line. ‘Margaret Lyn Meyrick – but she prefers Lyn – Meyrick’s daughter by his first wife.’

Denison digested that, and said quickly, ‘Is her mother still alive?’

‘Yes – divorced and remarried.’