Parisian Affair (43 page)

'Hang on a second,' he said. 'Let me get a
pen and paper.'

Allegra waited silently, noting that they
were already nearing the Porte d'ltalie and would be back at the
hotel in a short time.

Whitehead came back on the line and she gave
him the names and their corresponding numbers. 'I don't know if
finding out who these people are will get us anywhere or not,' she
said. 'They could be gardeners, but something tells me they
aren't.

'You know, this Princess Karima is beginning
to smell like a rat. She's obviously funneling money into an Arab
bank and wants it kept quiet,' Whitehead said. 'Listen, I'll get on
this right away, then give you a call. It'll take at least an hour
or two, but I'll get back to you.'

'Thanks a lot, Hilton,' Allegra said.

He hung up, and Allegra pushed the END
button, flipped the cell phone shut, and looked over at Todd. 'He's
going to get to work on those telephone numbers right away,' she
said.

'I hope he can find something out,' Todd
said. 'If nothing else, it would be nice to know what's going on
with the princess.'

Allegra could see the twin towers of
Notre-Dame in the distance. 'It'll be nice to be back at the Ritz,'
she said. 'I want to take a shower and have a nap. How about
you?'

He glanced at her and smiled. 'I like the
idea,' he said. 'I like it a lot. We can save water and shower
together.'

Allegra laughed. 'Ah, ever the
conservationist.'

'Oh, yes,' he agreed. 'It's the only way to
go.'

Jason awoke with a pounding headache and a
cotton mouth. His body felt leaden, and he wanted nothing more than
to go back to sleep. It was the awful dehydration that finally
forced him out of bed and into the kitchen, where he chugalugged
three glasses of water, one after the other. He went into the
bathroom then and looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was a
rat's nest, his skin blotchy, and there were telltale circles under
his bloodshot eyes. The groan that escaped his lips was almost a
squeak. His throat was still parched.

Retracing his steps to the kitchen, he poured
a glass of orange juice and drank it down in one swallow, then
wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. He had never had a
hangover like this before in his life. But then, he reminded
himself, he'd never had so much to drink, mixed with all those
drugs. He slumped into a chair at the small kitchen table, his
throbbing head in his hands.

The evening had begun with Cameron taking him
to three very popular bars, all of them packed with hot guys. He'd
bought him drink after drink—Scotch and water—and enthusiastically
introduced him to some of the most eligible men in New York.
Cameron had shepherded him through the maze of glitzy, expensive
gathering places like a prize bull, and when they finally left for
the restaurant, Jason had never shaken so many hands or been kissed
by so many handsome men.

At the restaurant, they had joined three
couples, a famous fashion designer and his partner, a well-known
interior decorator and his friend, and an enormously rich Wall
Street investment adviser and his boy toy. There had been more
cocktails, followed by exorbitantly expensive wine with dinner,
topped off by after-dinner drinks.

As midnight approached, Jason began to flag
and was ready to go back to the apartment and hit the sack. 'We've
only begun,' Cameron told him. 'The night's young.' That was when
he herded Jason into a bathroom stall at the restaurant and took a
small tin of cocaine out of his jacket pocket. He handed Jason a
straw. 'Take a good healthy snort up each nostril, baby,' he
said.

Jason had second thoughts. He'd smoked
marijuana a few times years ago, but otherwise he'd never
experimented with drugs. Cameron persisted, however, and Jason
finally did as he was told. He felt the cocaine almost immediately.
It was as if it exploded in his brain. Suddenly he no longer felt
tired. His body, in fact, seemed to vibrate with energy, and he
couldn't wipe away the smile that had come to his lips.

'We're off to the clubs now,' Cameron said.
Thus began an odyssey through Manhattan's hippest dance clubs that
lasted till the early hours of the next morning. Hours of dancing
and necking with wild abandon. Hours of drinking one drink after
another. Hours of snorting cocaine. Hours of downing ecstasy. Hours
of sniffing amyl nitrite.

Jason poured another glass of orange juice
and sipped it this time. The water and juice combined were
beginning to quench his thirst. Now if he could get rid of the
excruciating throb in his head, he would feel a little more human.
He got up from the table and quietly went back into the bedroom,
then tiptoed into the bathroom. In the medicine cabinet he found a
bottle of aspirin. He took three 375-milligram tablets, swallowing
them down with a small glass of water. Tiptoeing back through the
bedroom, he glanced at the bed and stopped in his tracks.

Cameron and another man, whose name he
couldn't remember— Gary? Greg? Gray?—were curled up together,
Cameron's arms thrown across the young man's shoulders. They both
slept soundly, the picture of satiated bliss, undisturbed by
Jason's presence.

Jason thought he was going to be sick. He
remembered Cameron's luring the young man back home with them. The
way his eyes and hands had been all over the stranger's body. His
constant reassurances to Jason that it meant nothing. 'Everybody
does it, right?' he'd said. 'It's nothing, baby. He'll just make
our own sex even better.'

Jason quickly left the bedroom and returned
to the kitchen, where he sat back down at the table. He put his
head in his hands and felt the sweat beading on his forehead and a
discomforting feeling in the pit of his stomach. Grabbing a tea
towel, he wiped his face, then sat staring into space.

Tears suddenly sprang into his eyes, and
trying to control the impulse to cry, he brushed at them with his
fingers. He realized now that Cameron, while he might genuinely
find him attractive, had simply used him as a way to gratify his
own ravenous sexual desires. His protestations of love had meant
nothing.

Tears began to run down Jason's face, and
sobs began to shake his body. He put his hands over his mouth to
try to keep from making any noise.
I was such a fool
, he
thought. Such a blind idiot. He's been using me for sex like some
kind of toy and, much more important, to get hold of Allegra's
designs.

Because, truth be told, Jason finally had to
admit that Cameron had run out of ideas. That, or he was simply too
lazy to come up with them and then follow through with their
execution. He was looking for a shortcut, the easy way out, and
he'd found it when he met Jason. He'd lured Jason with sex and vows
of undying love, and Jason had fallen for it hook, line, and
sinker, becoming his willing accomplice in the theft of Allegra's
work.

How could I have been so stupid? he wondered.
How could I have gotten mixed up with someone so unscrupulous? How
could I have failed to see that he's nothing but a fraud?

Jason felt as if he needed to take a long,
hot shower, to wash away the memory of the man. He got up and
pulled a length of paper towel from its holder and blew his nose,
then leaned back against the granite kitchen counter, listless and
miserable. He had never felt as lonely in his life as he did at
this moment, he realized. What he would give to have a friend to
talk to. But there was no one. Allegra had always been that person,
and now he'd betrayed her trust.

As the throbbing in his temples gradually
dissipated and he became more clearheaded, he realized what he had
to do. And nobody would stop him. He'd seen the error of his ways,
and he was going to try his best to correct the mistakes he'd
made.

He went into Cameron's study, where they'd
stacked the Xeroxes of Allegra's designs, and began putting them in
his backpack and the duffel bag, which were still on Cameron's
desk. When he finished that, he opened the desk drawer into which
he'd seen Cameron drop the bags of precious and semiprecious
stones. He recalled how Cameron had done it with a carefree
flourish of his hand, as if the stones were worthless garbage.
Jason took the little bags of stones out and put them in the
backpack.

He left the study and placed the backpack and
the duffel bag near the front door, then tiptoed back through the
bedroom to the bathroom. There, he retrieved his shaving gear,
toothbrush, and sundry items, shoving them all into his leather
travel kit. He crept into the bedroom then and quietly gathered the
clothes he'd worn the night before, not forgetting his shoes and
socks.

He dressed in the kitchen, then got his coat
out of the closet in the entrance hall. Starting for the door, he
changed his mind and went back to the kitchen. On a notepad used
for grocery lists, he penciled a note to Cameron:

Cameron,

I'm leaving and taking the Xeroxes and stones with
me. I've left some clothes. You can keep them, although I hardly
think they're your style, but I'd appreciate it if you had them
sent to my apartment. I don't want to discuss this with you or see
you again. Please don't try to contact me.

Jason

Ram stepped into his library on rue Elzevir
and crossed to the gilt console that served as a drinks table.
Pouring two fingers of Armagnac into a cut-crystal old-fashioned
glass, he downed it in a single swallow. He didn't want to drink
too much, though. He wanted to be in top form for the upcoming
evening. He was excited and energized by the mere thought of what
lay ahead.

He crossed the rug to his large Napoleonic
desk and sat down behind it. Last night had been a successful
evening, he thought as he lit a cigar. Josette had provided
temporary satisfaction, but it had been nothing more than an
amusing diversion. He was glad he'd called and brought her here,
not something he usually did. She was elegant and sophisticated and
always had the latest gossip, as she had connections in the highest
levels of government, industry, business, and society. She had
assuaged his sexual appetite in a ladylike fashion, as she was paid
a small fortune to do, and now she would delight her powerful and
wealthy clients with tales of Ram's prowess, his opulent home and
exquisite tastes, and his generosity. Josette, however, had served
only to whet his voracious appetite. It was tonight that would
bring him the kind of satisfaction that people seldom achieved. He
was certain of that.

Opening a drawer in the desk, he took out the
small plastic bag that was tucked beneath a small pile of old
invitations. Ram held the bag up and examined it in the light of
the gilt bronze
bouillotte
lamp on his desk. Inside were gel
capsules, each containing a finely ground powder commonly known as
the date rape drug. There was enough in each capsule to knock out
the average individual for several hours. Kadar was an invaluable
resource for such substances.

He slipped the plastic bag into the pocket of
his suit jacket, then patted the pocket affectionately. It wouldn't
be long, he thought, until he heard from Allegra Sheridan and her
boyfriend. Then the fun would begin. And the final stage of his
plan would be set in motion.

He got up from his chair and walked to one of
the French doors that overlooked rue Elzevir. Last evening he'd
decided against bringing the emeralds, their original settings, and
the photographs here. He'd left them in the safe at the apartment
on rue des Rosiers. He was glad now. Pushing aside the drapery, he
gazed out over the street beyond the
hotel particulier
opposite.
I'll take them to rue des Rosiers after we've dined
here,
he thought.
The curious couple can see why the emerald
is so important. It will be their last treat before they disappear
from the face of the earth
.

Todd pushed the hotel room door open and let
Allegra walk in first. When her heel caught on something, she
looked down and saw a large ivory vellum envelope. Bending over,
she picked it up.

'What's this?' she said, wondering aloud.

Todd, close on her heels, looked at it. 'I
don't know, but it has your name on it.'

Allegra tore the envelope open and pulled out
the sheet of heavy writing paper, eyeing it suspiciously. She
turned to Todd. 'I don't believe it,' she said. 'Listen to this.
Dear Ms. Sheridan, I would be honored if you and your friend
would dine with me this evening at my home. It was a pleasure
meeting you, and I thought we might get together to discuss your
design career. Jules Levant is always looking for young, innovative
designers, and perhaps we could talk about possibilities before you
return to New York. I will send my car for you and your friend at
seven thirty. If you can't make it, please phone me at the number
below to let me know. Paris, by the way, is a small town, and I was
delighted when I heard you were staying at the Ritz! I hope I'm not
intruding on you in any way and hope you and your friend can come.
Best regards, Ramtane Tadjer
.'

She looked at Todd with amazement after she'd
finished reading the note. 'I don't believe this.'

'How the hell does he know where we are?'
Todd said.

'Paris is a small town,' Allegra said
sarcastically.

Todd sat down and took off his shoes. 'Either
we've been followed or he has spies all over the place.'

'I guess it should give me the creeps,' she
said, 'but I wonder. ...' She looked off thoughtfully as she
slipped off her heels.

'What?' Todd asked, looking up at her.

'I'm just curious about this business of
'possibilities,' ' she said.

'Do you think he's actually serious?'

Allegra shrugged.