The Black Stiletto (23 page)

This is going to sound sordid, but I had to admit I found Rafael Pulgarón very attractive. The blood surging through my body felt as if it were on fire. So I took off all my clothes, removed the stiletto from my handbag and hid it, and got into the bed. It seemed so
illicit
, feeling the soft linens against my skin. It was the most daring thing I’d ever done in my life. I was nearly dizzy from the thrill.

It was a half hour before the Cuban returned to the room. I thought I’d die of anticipation. Finally, though, I heard his key in the door and he entered. He lingered in the sitting room for a moment, completely unaware I was in his bedroom. I couldn’t stand it anymore, so I lightly cleared my throat to get his attention.

Rafael Pulgarón stepped through the door, and you should have seen the look of surprise on his face! There I was, naked under the sheets of his bed. He said something in Spanish I didn’t understand. Realizing his mistake, he said, “Who are you? What are you doing in here?”

“Hi,” I said. “I don’t speak Spanish. Is that all right?”

“Answer my question, please.”

“My name is Eloise.” It was the first name to pop into my mind. I’d been thinking about that children’s book earlier. I don’t think he knew the reference. “And I already know your name, Rafael.”

He didn’t know whether to run, kill me, or get in bed with me. After all, he was in the country performing a dangerous and illegal task. And I knew his name. I attempted to put his mind at ease by saying, “I overheard you talking to that man earlier, in the bar downstairs. When I saw you, I knew I had to meet you. So here I am.”

Pulgarón squinted at me and then smiled. He wagged a finger at me. “I remember seeing you there. You were at the table next to us. You kept glancing in my direction.”

“I hope I didn’t distract you.”

“You did distract me. You would distract any man, I think.”

“Oh, is that a compliment?” I asked, fluttering my eyes. I couldn’t believe I was playing the role of a
tramp
so well!

“It is.”

“Well, I think you’re very handsome, Rafael. I couldn’t resist meeting you.”

He stepped farther into the room. His eyes moved up and down the shape of my body beneath the sheets. “And this is how you meet men? How did you get in?”

“Oh, I’ve
never
done this before, Rafael! That’s the truth, God be my witness. I bribed a bellboy to let me in. It cost me a dollar and a kiss on the cheek. The kiss came first; otherwise I doubt I would have gotten anywhere with my request.”

He laughed and wagged his finger at me again. “You are a very naughty girl, Eloise!”

“Why, did I do wrong?” I put on the sweetest Marilyn Monroe voice I could muster. In my mind I conjured up an image of the actress in
The Seven Year Itch
and tried to mimic her. “
Señor
Pulgarón, I don’t think it’s wrong to go after what you want, do you? When something is as
irresistible
as you are, a girl can’t help herself!”

The flattery was working. He sat on the bed and placed a hand over the sheet on my leg. As he spoke, he gently caressed it. “Eloise, how do I know you’re telling the truth? You are not working for someone else, are you?”

My intuition indicated he was indeed suspicious, but that he wouldn’t hurt me. Not yet, anyway. So I feigned confusion. “What do you mean? Working for someone else? I don’t understand.”

Pulgarón shook his head. “Never mind.”

I tried to act hurt. “You think I’m lying to you? You don’t like me?”

“No, no, it’s not that,” he said. “I do like you. I like you very much.”

I switched over to the Marilyn voice again. “Then what are you sitting there for? Why don’t you join me?”

He did exactly as I hoped. Pulgarón stood and began to undress. I watched him with fascination. The spider had lured the fly into the trap, and I felt a surge of pleasure flow through my body. How far was I willing to let this go?

As soon as he was completely vulnerable, I threw back the sheet. His eyes flared as he gazed upon me, and I knew I had him. He got into bed beside me. I let him kiss me, for I have to admit being curious about him. He tasted of the liquor he’d had earlier, but otherwise his musky scent was very appealing. And he was a good kisser. I almost hated to end it.

I reached beneath my pillow and pulled out the stiletto. With a flash so quick that he didn’t have time to blink, I held it to his neck and whispered, “All right, you Commie fink, don’t make a move. Don’t make a sound. You try anything and this blade will pierce your skin faster than you can say, ‘
Olé
!’”

He froze with a priceless look of shock and dismay on his face. I rotated my body around and straddled him. With my free hand, I reached behind the headboard, where I’d stashed the rope. In three minutes, he was tied spread-eagle to the bed, exposed and helpless.

I then got up and put on my clothes. He watched me with hatred in his eyes. An outpour of Spanish erupted from his mouth, but I ignored him. A quick search produced the documents Colonel Ward had given him, and I laid them on the bed between his legs. I found some stationery on the desk in the living room and scribbled a note—“Compliments of the Black Stiletto.” This I placed on top of the classified material. I made sure I had everything I came with, except the rope, of course, and then went to the in-room phone—another luxury the Plaza provided its guests. I dialed the operator. When she answered, I asked her to place a call to the FBI. When I was finally connected to an agent, I explained there was a Cuban spy in the Plaza Hotel who had stolen classified military documents from the Pentagon. That Colonel Ward was the man who had sold the material to Pulgarón, and they would find everything in the Cuban’s suite. Before the FBI agent could ask questions, I hung up and left the room. Avoiding the elevator, I took the stairs to the ground floor and quickly exited the hotel.

I wasn’t too concerned that Pulgarón had seen my face—and that’s not all, ha ha. I didn’t think there was any way he’d be able to identify me.

It was the most fun I ever had.

26
Judy’s Diary
1958

A
UGUST
18, 1958

The next morning—yesterday—there was nothing in the papers about Pulgarón. I wondered what the heck had happened. Had he gotten away? Had I messed up somehow? It wasn’t until today that the front page of every New York newspaper displayed headlines about Pulgarón’s arrest and the interception of Colonel William Ward at Idlewild airport on his way back to Washington, D.C. COMMUNIST SPIES CAUGHT! proclaimed the
Daily News
. FBI FOIL ESPIONAGE PLOT screamed the
New York Times.

Apparently not long after I’d left the Plaza, several FBI agents swarmed the building and insisted on entry to Pulgarón’s suite. He was found as I’d left him—naked and tied to the bed, along with the incriminating documents. The Cuban was arrested and questioned, and I suspect they quickly figured out where the classified material came from and nabbed the Pentagon man before he boarded his flight.

The
Times
went into more detail about Pulgarón’s arrest, saying that an “unidentified female” called the FBI office with the tip. It was the only mention of my involvement. Needless to say, I was annoyed. They could have given me a little credit. I wonder what Pulgarón told them about me. “There was a naked woman
in the bed! She got the best of me and tied me up!” Ha ha, I’m sure they enjoyed that confession.

There wasn’t any news about Draper, though. I hope I did the right thing last night. Yesterday when there hadn’t been any coverage of the arrests, I decided to do something about Draper’s role in the scheme. So I looked up his records in our membership files, noted his address, and thought perhaps he could use a visitor. (PS—I still need to figure out how the Black Stiletto can make daylight appearances. It just isn’t practical trying to change clothes in a phone booth—I don’t understand how Superman does it!)

After dark, the Black Stiletto made her way all the way up to York Avenue and 83rd Street, where Draper lived in a brown-stone. It took a long time, flitting from shadow to shadow on foot. I think it was the most distance I’d traveled as the Stiletto. Luckily, Manhattan’s East Side was more conducive to stealth, for it was more residential and neighborhood-oriented than the West Side. The most difficult parts are crossing the major cross-streets like 34th Street, 42nd Street, 57th. Usually I don’t use the intersections. It works best to dart through the moving traffic in the middle of a block.

It was around ten thirty when I got to Draper’s building. I found his name on the downstairs intercom box, noted the apartment number, and then used my lockpicks to get in the front door. It was a walk-up, all the way to the fifth floor—but I was in great shape; it didn’t wind me at all.

Listening outside his door, I heard classical music—a record he was playing on a phonograph. I didn’t know the title, but it was a famous piece. The one with the cannons going off at the music’s climax. Isn’t that a patriotic tune? I found that ironic. Anyway, I knocked on his door, stood to the side so he couldn’t see me through the peephole, and waited.

“Who is it?” Draper called.

“Eloise,” I said.
Why not?
I thought.

“Who?”

“I’m a friend of Rafael Pulgarón.”

Dead silence. I could sense the sudden fear emanating from behind the door. What could he be thinking? He didn’t know about Pulgarón’s arrest—no one did, not last night.

Finally, I heard the sound of a lock turning. The door swung open and I pushed inside.

Draper yelled in terror when he saw me.

I slammed the door shut behind me and said, “Shut up!” I pointed to a chair. “Sit down. Now.”

“W-w-wait!” he stammered. “You can’t do this. What do you want with me?”

“I said
sit down
!” I found I could be pretty dominating when I wanted. He did as he was told. “You know who I am?” He nodded. “Good. Don’t move,” I added. Then I walked slowly around the apartment—two rooms and a bath. Small, but comfortable. I stuck my head in the bedroom just to make sure we were alone. There was an open suitcase and a pile of folded clothes on the bed. He’d been in the process of packing.

“Going somewhere, Draper?” I asked.

Sweat poured freely from his bald head. “What?”

“Are you deaf? I asked if you’re going somewhere.”

“Um, yeah. I’m on vacation. I’m going to Canada.”

“Canada? What’s in Canada?”

“N-n-nothing. I’m just going there.”

“Rafael didn’t know you were going on vacation. Neither did Colonel Ward.”

At the mention of the second name, his eyes
really
bulged.

“How was your breakfast this morning with the colonel?” I asked him. “Did he give you what you wanted?”

Draper was too frightened to speak. He couldn’t believe I
knew his secret. I removed a coil of rope from my knapsack and proceeded to tie him to the chair. “Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna hurt you,” I said. “Just want to make sure you stay put while I have a look around.”

“W-what do you want? I’ll pay you!”

“Pay me for what? I don’t want any of your treason money.” I finished securing him with heavy knots, and then I patted his sweaty bald head. “Now you stay quiet and I won’t have to gag you.”

I went to the bedroom and examined the suitcase. Sure enough, he had stuck several stacks of currency in brown envelopes that lay under clothing on the bottom of the luggage. I started counting, but I gave up when I got to six thousand. That wasn’t even half of it.

Returning to the living room, I said, “Draper, do you know what happened last night?” He shook his head. “Rafael was arrested at the Plaza.” Another wave of terror passed behind his eyes. “And Colonel Ward was picked up at Idlewild this morning, right after your breakfast. Now, what I want to know is why no one has come to get you. Surely Pulgarón or Ward would rat on you to get a better deal for themselves? What have you got on them? And why the sneaky escape to Canada, or wherever you’re going? Talk to me. I’m a good listener.”

He was quiet for a long time. I stayed patient, but finally, I simply drew the stiletto from its sheath. I ran my finger along the blade and said, “Well?”

“There’s no evidence against me,” he said, hoarsely. “All I did was introduce them. I was the liaison, that’s all. There’s nothing a court of law could charge me with.”

“What about all that money in your suitcase?”

He hadn’t realized I’d found it. Still, he remained stubborn. “All I did was introduce two men. Whatever business they conducted with each other was no concern of mine.”

I could tell he was hiding something. I’ve always been good at flushing out liars. So I went back in the bedroom. Examining the suitcase more closely, I noticed some odd stitching on the inside perimeter of the lining. It had been resewn. So I slashed it with the stiletto and ripped it open, revealing a large envelope.

Maybe I’ve led a sheltered life or something, but the photographs I found inside truly shocked me. It was something I’ve always heard about, but never seen with my own eyes.