A Symphony in Blue
Chapter 15
Symphony Angel consulted her watch for the tenth time in the last half
hour. Only two minutes left,
she reflected.
“Not getting cold feet, are you?”
Symphony looked to her side, where a big bulky Black man was standing.
Rodney was Butch’s older brother. He looked like Butch. Same build, same
features, except he was bald and had a gold earring, and lots of rings on his
fingers. Same obnoxious disposition, but with an easy, assured smile. He
was also dressed in a much more elegant, almost fancy way, befitting the place
he was working in. To his question, Symphony shook her head. “No, I’m
not. But I must admit I am a little nervous.”
“You’re rusty? Haven’t done this for a while?”
Symphony frowned. A VERY long time indeed, she mused. And NOT professionally. And in front of
the kind of crowd that was awaiting her?!
Not at all. But she kept that to herself.
Instead, she checked herself out. The red sequinned gown she was wearing
was MUCH too revealing for her taste. No shoulder straps; a low, plunging
neckline; and although the dress reached down to her ankles, it was slit
nearly up to her hip on the left side, showing the whole of her left leg.
The shoes were a real torture. At least three inches high, and so narrow,
she could barely feel her toes. Obviously, the woman who had worn them
before her had much smaller feet.
“Just uncomfortable, I guess,” she muttered. “It’s these high heels,
more than anything. I haven’t worn anything like them for a LONG time!”
“You’ll do fine. Let me check that make-up.” Symphony looked up at
him. He was tall, but with her heels, she was nearly as tall as he was.
“Not too much?” she asked timidly. She felt absurdly like a circus
freak, with all the glittering make-up that Esmeralda, the house make-up
artist, had put on her face.
Rodney shook his head. “Naaa, you look great. Just what’s needed
for the show… And don’t forget,” he added in an undertone, “you don’t
want Grover to recognize you if he’s in the house tonight.”
Symphony nodded. When Marsha had helped her to enter the ‘First Base Casino’, by taking the place
of one of the regular performers in the Guests Lounge, she had hoped she would
have the time and the opportunity to search for Adam right away. But it
had not been possible. Not even with the help of Rodney who, Symphony had
learned, was Marsha’s inside informer. There was simply not enough time left,
after Marsha had made all the arrangements to get her in, and convinced the
person in charge that she was ‘reliable’. And then there had been
Marsha’s instructions to Symphony, how to act like a professional performer,
and the preparations for tonight’s show. Symphony was deeply
disappointed. If only she could have been able to free herself to go in
search of Blue… She would have freed him and got him out of here, and
then she wouldn’t have had to perform at all.
Now, she simply couldn’t avoid it. She was backstage, minutes from
the show, all ready to go.
She hoped the cover would work.
And she was starting to get a severe case of stage fright.
But that wasn’t what was really worrying her the most. Not the way
she was dressed, and not the fact she would have to go on stage. Not by a long
shot.
She had not checked in with either Paul or Colonel White yet. Now
that she knew that Captain Scarlet was out of jail – although not really out of
peril, considering WHO had got him out – she wasn’t as worried about him as
before. She knew, however, that HE would worry about HER. But with all
that was going on, she didn’t have the time to call him. At least, she
was desperately trying to CONVINCE herself that she didn’t have the time.
She knew she was lying to herself. The truth was that she didn’t WANT to call
in at all. She wasn’t in any hurry to face Colonel White just yet.
He would be so very angry at her, she just knew it. The fact that
she had not checked in, for so many hours, despite the urgency of the situation
AND Spectrum’s regulations, didn’t help matters. Pushing the deadline forward
would only be worse, she was aware of that, but she felt as if she had no other
choice. She just knew that her commander would forbid her to put herself
in danger so blatantly, as she was doing right now. And it was a sure bet
Paul would add his concerned voice to their commander’s.
Well, she wouldn’t have it. She had to do everything in her power
to find Adam. Especially now that she felt she was so close to him.
She was ready to face court martial if need be.
Rodney had moved to push aside the curtain, to check on the stage and
beyond it into the lounge. Then he turned to the young woman, who was
fidgeting with her radio mic. “The place is full. Gardenia’s in
there, playing cards.”
Symphony nodded. Up until now,
she hadn’t had to meet Pietro Gardenia.
The man, it seemed, had other, more important preoccupations about the
casino than hiring performers. He left
that task to a Mister Martinelli. It
was Martinelli that Marsha and her right-hand man, Halloway, had contacted,
explaining that the lounge performer was sick and unable to appear, and then
proposing a replacement. Although
Martinelli had shown some reluctance in accepting Symphony, he had quickly had
to give in, seeing as he had no other choice if he wanted to have a show
tonight.
All in all, the substitution had gone rather smoothly.
“I don’t see Grover anywhere,” Rodney continued, turning around to face
Symphony. “I know he was in the house today, but… I wasn’t able to find
out what ‘business’ he had here.
Except for what I already told Marsha.” He blew out a sigh.
“Wish I was able to find your boyfriend for you, honey. But it’s just not
possible. There’s places where employees like me are not allowed.”
“You think he may be in that bunker Marsha told me about?”
“It’s possible.” Rodney shrugged. “It’s common knowledge
that Gardenia keeps… ‘things’, there. Illegal stuff. If your friend is
here, that’s where they would put him. But I’ve never been able to get in
there, though. I’m an honest employee, you know?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll find a way to check that out myself.”
Rodney scowled. “You’re courting danger, lady.”
More than you can ever
know, Rodney, Symphony
reflected inwardly. I’m in big
trouble next time I face Colonel White.
“I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah, so I’ve heard. But if you have any problems...”
“Are you afraid I’d blow your cover, Rodney?” Symphony murmured.
“It’s not that… Well, not that
much.”
“What is it? Did Marsha ask you to keep your eye on me?”
“No. My brother.”
“That’s so kind of him.”
Rodney’s face cracked with a broad grin, revealing a gold glitter in the
middle of two rows of very white teeth. “It’s not that. He says you’re
trouble with a capital T, and quite a handful. Seeing the state of his
face when he told me that, I figured he was worried for me, rather than for
you.”
Symphony chuckled. “Well, you have nothing to fear from me,
Rodney. I won’t be as rough with you as I was with your brother. Because
at least I KNOW you’re on my side.”
“I appreciate that very much, little lady.” He checked one last
time beyond the curtain. “Okay, prepare yourself. You’ll be going
on in a minute.”
“Oh, can’t wait,” Symphony grumbled, not even a hint of enthusiasm in
her tone.
* * *
“You’re a real card shark, you know that, Mister Montagu?”
Behind the high piles of chips he had amassed, Colonel White raised an
eyebrow upon hearing Orson Craig’s remark.
Folding the cards he had in his hands, the man put them down on the
table, and rose from his seat, blowing a deep sigh. There was but a single blue
chip in front of him, that he picked up solemnly. “I’m out,” he announced
grumpily. “That’s all I have left.” With a casual gesture, he put the
chip onto the plate of the young waitress who passed near him, and took the
glass of brandy that was standing on it. “My Mom always told me to treat the
girls like they were all ladies,” he said, winking at the girl. He then raised his glass, and swallowed the
contents in one gulp, before putting it down the table. He took his vest from
where it hung on the back of his chair, and nodded to White. “A pleasure to
have played with you, sir.”
White nodded in turn and Craig turned to leave.
“Now, it’s just between you and me, Mister Montagu.”
White looked up at Gardenia seated on the other side of the table.
An hour ago, Mario Morelli had left the table, having lost all of his previous
winnings during the poker game. The man was now seated at the bar,
drinking jovially, as if he hadn’t just lost a small fortune. Now Orson
Craig had left in turn, leaving Pietro Gardenia and ‘John Montagu’ to face off,
each with a great quantity of chips in front of them. Gardenia’s stacks,
however were just a little higher than White’s.
“As it was meant to be, isn’t it, Mister Gardenia?” White reflected
quietly.
Gardenia shook his head. “Orson is right. You’re a real card
shark,” he said between his teeth. “Where did you learn to play like that?”
“I have an angel looking over my shoulder,” White answered evenly.
“Is that the way the English say they have luck on their side?” White
didn’t answer; Gardenia discreetly checked around and leaned over to him,
offering a faint smile. “Or is it the expression they use to say they cheat?”
Scarlet had left his position at the bar to take a table not far from
the stage, distractedly playing solitaire, with a glass of beer in front of
him. From there, he had a perfect view of the table where Colonel White
had been playing poker for the last hour or so, in company of Gardenia and the
two other mobsters. Up until now, everything had gone according to
plan. Thanks to Destiny’s ‘helpful advice’, the colonel had been able to
drive each of the other players from the table, leaving the Spectrum commander
to face only Gardenia. As it was intended to be. But now, hearing
Gardenia’s words, Scarlet had a feeling that things could very well go
haywire. He tensed, and touched the frame of his glasses.
“Destiny?” he murmured.
“I heard it too,” the voice of Destiny answered. “Be ready to
interfere if need be, Captain.”
“S.I.G.,” Scarlet replied in an undertone. He had his eyes closely
set on the table where the two men were confronting each other. He
waited.
White didn’t even react to the accusation; which rather sounded like a
remark than anything else. “Are you saying I’m a cheat, Mister Gardenia?”
“Come on, we both know you are,” Gardenia answered, with a
confident smile on his face. “Of course, you were cheating at the blackjack
table too… How did you do it, anyway? I’m curious to know.”
“If you feel so sure I was cheating,” White replied rather coldly, “why
not say so in front of the others?”
“Because it wouldn’t have served my purpose.” Gardenia sat back;
his expression had turned to one of satisfaction. “You won a great deal at this
table tonight, Mister Montagu. And I enjoyed seeing you cleaning out
Craig and Morelli. Now, it’s only a little matter of you… losing it all
to me.”
White raised an eyebrow. “So that’s what you have in mind,” he
noted. “You ‘win’ all my gains, most of it the money I took from those two
gentlemen, and they will never know that you actually robbed them of it.
You’re nothing but a common thief, then.”
“So strange to hear the word ‘thief’ coming from the mouth of a
cheat. You’d better watch your language, mister.”
“And if I refuse to lose to you?”
“Then I’ll reveal you for the cheat you are. Believe me, cheats
and conmen are not welcome in this city. Especially if they cheat two
notorious members of the mob.”
"Which your two... 'friends' are," White noted.
"So, you know that, do you?"
"Yes, I know. As I know about your... contacts with the local mob,
Mister Gardenia. You are a very influential man in that circle."
"You better believe it." Gardenia took a sip from his glass.
"Like you better believe that I won't hesitate one second to use that
influence to throw you to the wolves, if need be." He smiled lightly. “And
don’t bother to defend yourself by saying that I knew all about it. You think
they will believe you? They’ll believe me instead.”
“I don’t doubt it.” There was a cold edge to White’s tone.
He tilted his head to the side. “You’ve done this sort of thing many times,
Mister Gardenia?”
“What makes you say that, Mister Montagu?”
“Experience, really. I know a crook when I see a crook. And
a weasel, when I see a weasel.”
Gardenia bristled at the insult. “I told you to watch your mouth,
Montagu. I don’t like being insulted.”
White nodded quietly. He leaned over the table, his fingers
intertwined in front of him. Gardenia was surprised to see that a man in
his apparently difficult position could still appear so calm. “I have a
proposition for you, Mister Gardenia.”
Gardenia scoffed loudly. “And what kind of proposition could you
possibly be able to offer me?”
"You have... something, that I want very much."
"Really? And what’s in it for me? Frankly, sir, that doesn't sound
that interesting."
“But you WILL find it interesting, I’m sure. And it’ll be in your
best interests to accept.”
"That sounds like some kind of threat," Gardenia remarked
ominously. "Surely, you must realise I'm not a man to react kindly to
threats, Mister Montagu."
"Why don't you stop the pretence, Mister Gardenia? You must know my
name isn't Montagu."
"Really? I had my doubts, but..."
"Come on, you really don't have any idea of who I am?" White
shook his head. "I would have thought that that sheriff of yours would
have talked to you about me."
"What sheriff?"
"The sheriff of Los Lobos. A certain McNamara. I
was in his town today. And if I'm not mistaken, he wanted so very much for me to
stay there a little longer than I had planned."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
White narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the man in front of him. "You
don't fool me, Gardenia. You must surely be aware of two Englishmen who were in
Los Lobos today, asking too many indiscreet questions. One of them, I'm sure,
fitting my description."
Gardenia scoffed. "You're not the ONLY Englishman ever to come into
my casino, Mister Montagu. Or whoever you are. I don’t have the slightest idea what
you're talking about."
“Haven’t you?” White’s
voice became very icy. “I’m talking
about Adam Svenson.”
“Sorry?” Gardenia gave White a
somehow innocent and perplexed look.
That didn’t fool the colonel at all. “Who is this… Adam Svenson?”
“The man Wilson Grover kidnapped, with your complicity.” White raised
his hand swiftly, seeing that Gardenia was about to protest. “And don’t bother
to tell me you don’t know Mister Grover.
I know perfectly well that you two were… buddies, of some sort, when you
were in the baseball minor leagues.”
“I don’t deny I know Wilson Grover, no. It was a long time ago… Nearly
thirty years.”
“And he made contact with you again some years ago.”
“That may be true,” Gardenia admitted carefully. “But that doesn’t mean that this accusation
of yours is also true.” He took a very cold tone. “You like to live
dangerously, Mister Montagu. I suggest
you moderate your tone, before I have one of my men do it for you. You have no
right coming waltzing in here and accusing me like that, without any proof.”
With a satisfied smirk he casually picked up his cigar, which had gone out,
from the ashtray on the table and fished in his pocket for his gold-plated
lighter.
“I don’t need proof to know you’re in this right up to
your neck,” White replied between his teeth. “Furthermore, I’ve got proof
enough of my own, of a different sort, to put you behind bars for the rest of
your life, before we even mention the
subject of kidnapping. You see, I know
all about your… extra-curricular activities.
I managed to build up quite an interesting file on you, with some VERY
interesting names. A Mister Fisher from
New York, for example? I heard you owe him a great deal of money… ” The lighter
stopped just short of the cigar. White narrowed his eyes at him. "I think
you’re a very lucky man, Mister Gardenia, that Mister Fisher is still trying to
sort out his Swiss bank account, after that nasty business with one of his
rivals. He’s too busy to come after you for his money.”
Gardenia sat up straight, hearing that. That information had never leaked to the
press. “How did you…?”
“I have very reliable contacts, Mister Gardenia.”
“You’ve got some nerve…”
Gardenia choked on the rest and kept silent a moment, staring with a
murderous look at the set-faced Englishman seated in front on him. An evil smile slowly spread on his
lips. “And what make you think you’ll
be able to leave this place, with all that information you say you have on me?”
White’s brief grin was anything but amused. “Quite easily, I imagine.”
“You’re nuts. Where’s your evidence?
What can you show me, right here, right now?”
“Surely you don’t think I’d have any incriminating evidence with me?”
Gardenia scowled deeply, apparently annoyed to hear that answer. “Now hear my proposition, Mister Gardenia,”
White continued, with the same even tone.
“You give me back Adam Svenson, in good health. And I’ll forget everything that I know.”
Gardenia chuckled. He sat back
quietly, eyeing the Spectrum commander. “You really think you can get out of
here like that, unharmed, after all that you just said to me?”
“I did escape your sheriff, earlier.”
Gardenia narrowed his eyes. “Okay, maybe you’ll be able to leave this
room. You may even be able to walk
through the casino and reach the door.
And then, take your car and go back to your hotel. But I can guarantee you, sir: you would never leave this town alive.”
“I take it you don’t accept my arrangement,” White replied, still very
calmly.
“There can be no arrangement between us,” Gardenia growled with anger.
“I’m not so sure about that.” Quietly, with measured moves, White
reached into his jacket pocket to fish out a thin card-holder. For a moment,
Gardenia seemed distressed, but the Spectrum commander was careful enough to
show him the interior of his vest, thus demonstrating that he wasn’t carrying
any weapon. “Do you think me careless enough to come in here armed, Mister
Gardenia?”
From his place at his table, not so far from there, Scarlet was waiting,
ready to swiftly intervene, his hand reaching behind him for his pistol. He felt as nervous as a cat. Should Gardenia misinterpret White’s
gesture…
But nothing happened, and he saw the man relax as White produced the
inoffensive card-holder, and then threw it on top of the pile of chips in the middle
of the table. Scarlet relaxed, but
still kept on the ready.
“Here. I think you’ll find this
new stake quite interesting. And enough
to convince you that it would be better for you to accept my proposition.”
“What are you, a cop?” Gardenia grumbled, reaching for the
card-holder. He stopped in
mid-movement, and his eyes went wide, as they fell on the rounded symbol
stamped on the leather. It was staring
him right in the face, with its rainbow of colours and the bright stylised ‘S’
dead in the centre.
He quickly put his open hand onto the card-holder, covering the symbol
entirely, and looked around nervously to make sure nobody had noticed it. When he was satisfied that it wasn’t the
case, he turned his attention back to the still set-faced White. “Spectrum?” he
murmured. There wasn’t any reaction
from his interlocutor. Gardenia licked his lips. “Where did you get that?”
White raised an eyebrow. “Why,
it’s mine, of course. What do you think?”
He could see Gardenia suddenly becoming livid. He pressed on. “If you care to look inside, you’ll see my picture
and ID card…” He reached out his hand
with the apparent intention of taking the card-holder to prove what he had
said, but Gardenia’s sudden protests stopped him as he was near his goal.
“Will you leave that alone? I don’t want anybody to see it!” He was still talking low, very quickly this
time, but he had the impression he had still talked too loudly. He checked around. He didn’t dare open the
card-holder himself, in fear somebody would catch a glimpse. He then scrutinized White’s face
attentively. The man was icy calm, and
waiting patiently.
There was no doubt in Gardenia’s mind that he was facing the real deal.
He took the card-holder, taking great care to hide the Spectrum emblem
within his palm, and drew a deep breath. “What is it you want?”
“I thought I’d already told you,” White replied. “I want Adam Svenson
back.”
Gardenia paused, and carefully weighed his answer. “This is not a good
place to talk,” he finally said in a low tone. “Too many ears. We would be better to continue this…
discussion… in my office.”
White stared at him, with a doubtful expression. Gardenia quickly shook his head. “I know
what you’re thinking. But have no fear.
I give you my word I’m not leading you into a trap. I certainly don’t want any trouble with Spectrum.”
White nodded carefully. Obviously, the man was impressed enough by the
mere thought that he was presently facing a Spectrum agent that he was now
completely sincere. “You and me alone, then.”
“Of course,” Gardenia quickly accepted.
“All right, then. I agree.” White gestured negligently towards the chips
on the table. “Won’t people be
suspicious if you leave all that there and take off?”
Gardenia nodded in turn. “You’re right. I’ll have someone pick them
up. Excuse me a minute.” He rose from
his seat and went to Guido, who was standing next to the stage talking to a
bald and bulky Black man wearing a gold earring.
In his ear, Colonel White suddenly heard the voice of Captain Scarlet;
the younger officer’s tone sounded urgent, and certainly worried. Destiny must have put him through,
thought the Spectrum commander.
“Sir, this is too risky,” Scarlet was saying. “You’ll be without
protection if you go with that man alone.”
“And what do you suggest?” White grumbled under his breath, negligently
playing with the deck of cards left in front of him.
“I’ll follow you.”
“No, you’re staying right where you are. You’ll be able the monitor my
situation with the camera and speakers.”
“But…”
“I said no, Captain. That’s an order.”
White looked toward Gardenia, who was now coming back to him in the
company of Guido, and then stood up. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”
From his table, Captain Scarlet was wondering how in Heaven’s name he
would not worry, as he watched Gardenia inviting his commander to follow
him. The two went in the direction of a
door near the bar, while Guido was busy getting the chips from the table and
putting them into a sack. Scarlet
didn’t take his eyes off White until he disappeared behind the door, which
closed on him. He didn’t like it. For all of White’s assurance, there was no
guarantee that Gardenia would keep true to his word and would not cause any
trouble. Scarlet had half a mind to
follow, despite the orders given to him. He had begun to rise from his chair.
“Don’t worry, Captain,” the voice of Destiny told him at that moment,
bringing him back to order. “The
colonel usually knows what he’s doing.”
“Does he?” Scarlet grumbled under his breath.
“I’ll keep close watch, don’t worry.
And the channel will still be open, so you’ll hear everything that goes
on in there.”
Scarlet sat back, drawing a deep sigh and took back the cards he had
left on the table. “S.I.G.,” he finally murmured reluctantly. It wasn’t as if he had any choice. He knew that the colonel was only following
the plan, and that they had to trust that it would succeed, in order to get
Blue back.
* * *
After following a corridor, Colonel White and Pietro Gardenia arrived at
the latter’s office; it was a big spacious room, with very classy decor, and a
large oak desk set to the far side opposite the door. The minute they entered in, White walked right into the middle of
the room, while Gardenia was closing the door behind. All sounds coming from the lounge were instantly cut off, as
White realized Gardenia must have had his office soundproofed for more privacy.
“I should have realized,” the casino owner said, White turning to face
him. “Gray. That’s a colour-coded name from Spectrum, then?” He approached
the Spectrum commander.
“So you do know who I am,” White noted, not correcting Gardenia’s
mistake. “Thank you, I was wondering if
McNamara had really contacted you about me.”
“Is that a forged identity, or is there a real Gray somewhere, not aware
that you’re using his name?” White
didn’t care to respond. Obviously,
Gardenia mused, he didn’t want to beat around the bush and wanted this
situation settled as quickly as possible.
He sighed. “Yes, McNamara did
contact me,” he admitted. “He told me
about you snooping around his town, searching for that friend of yours and for
Wilson Grover. He told me how
excruciatingly annoying you have been, making the same accusations that you’re
making now, right here in my face.
Trying to incriminate me with kidnapping…”
“If you WEREN’T involved, Mister Gardenia… why would Sheriff McNamara
inform you of my whereabouts? It seems
obvious to me that you’re very interested in knowing who’s looking for Adam
Svenson and Wilson Grover. And you were
also very anxious that this person - me, or anybody else - didn’t ask too many
questions or eventually find these two men. So, in view of what I told you
earlier, what do you think is the obvious conclusion about your involvement in
this affair?”
Gardenia had stopped in front of White to stare at him for a
moment. He seemed to ponder the
remark. Then, quietly, he handed him
his card-holder. He had not even opened
it. He felt that he didn’t need to.
White accepted it and pocketed it.
“What is it you want from me, sir?” Gardenia asked quietly.
“How many times do I have to tell you?
I want Adam Svenson.”
“Since when does Spectrum take interest in…” Gardenia lifted an eyebrow,
“…that kind of business?”
“Call it a personal favour,” White replied coldly. “One I’m doing for a friend.”
“And you’re using Spectrum’s influence for a personal favour? That seems… odd.”
“You don’t have to know all the details behind this… ‘operation’, Mister
Gardenia. Just so you’re aware: I WILL use all the influence and power that
I have, without any hesitation, to see Adam Svenson free.” He tilted his head. “Believe me, you don’t want to see me using
the heavy artillery.”
“You’re serious about this,” Gardenia murmured, frowning.
“I’m always serious, Gardenia,” White replied. “That’s why I intend to keep my end of the bargain.”
“Which is?”
White nodded toward the closed door.
“How much did we leave on that table?
Thirty, thirty-five thousand?
That’s yours.”
Gardenia scoffed loudly. “You’re kidding! In a ‘business’ like you’re implying – and I’m not saying I’m involved!
– that would hardly pay off the hired
hands!”
“It’s also the price of your freedom.”
White’s icy tone got Gardenia’s total attention. He stared squarely at him. “You don’t have
any choice but to accept the offer, Mister Gardenia. I know the police are disappointed that they’ve not been able to
pin anything on you so far, no grounds for arrest. But Spectrum is another matter. We have means other law
authorities can only dream of. I will
have you investigated, and tracked down around the world if need be. Believe me, I can do it. And I will.”
“So you’re telling me… if I do not agree to your demands… I will be spending the rest of my life
running away from Spectrum?”
“Oh, I don’t think you’d be running for long. I'm sure Mister Fisher would find you rather
quickly. From what I hear, you’d better pray that Spectrum DOES find you
first...” There was an assurance in
White’s tone that was enough to convince Gardenia that he meant every word he
said.
“And what… if I wasn’t to let you
get out of here?” Gardenia asked ominously.
There was a low chuckle from White. He had been waiting for this threat.
“If I accepted this proposition of yours to come alone to this office to
discuss our ‘business’, it’s because I took out some insurance, Mister
Gardenia. Every move, and every word we exchange is being monitored. Everything from the moment I set foot in
this casino. Which, by the way, is
currently under surveillance by Spectrum agents. There are many of them, outside and inside the house. The SECOND they think I may be in
life-threatening danger, they’ll be on you like a ton of bricks.”
Gardenia frowned. He still had
some doubts, but he had heard of Spectrum’s effectiveness. And White’s
assurance, while standing there in front of him, gave him no reason to believe
he wasn’t hearing the truth. “I don’t
want any problem with Spectrum. It
would not be good for my business.”
“Especially concerning your relationship with the mob, eh?”
“I heard rumours of the trouble those families in New York AND
Philadelphia had with your organization recently. I don’t want the same.”
“I’m not interested in your business with the mob, nor
any of your other businesses, Mister Gardenia.” White paused a second, seeing
that Gardenia was still hesitating. “There
is ONE more thing I can offer you,” he added carefully. "Let’s say I… can
see to it that Mister Fisher has other things on his plate besides collecting
your debt...”
“And how do you intend to do that?”
“Believe me, Mister Gardenia, I can as easily go after
him as you. But YOU have something that
I want: Adam Svenson. And I want him safe and sound. And I want Wilson Grover too, for good measure.” Gardenia seemed
thoughtful about that last demand.
White took his silence for hesitation. “Don’t tell me you have scruples
about…”
“I don’t care about Grover,” Gardenia cut in. “He cares about nothing, except his revenge on the Svensons, whom
he considers responsible for his imprisonment, all those years ago. He only called upon me because he needed my
help. He doesn’t have any loyalty to me.
So why should I have any to him?”
He shook his head. “But Grover could be dangerous for my business, if he
is incarcerated. It seems this fool
plan of his got me in enough trouble as it is.
I’d prefer it if you let me handle him.”
“I can’t condone murder, Gardenia.”
“All you have to know is that he won’t cause trouble to anybody
anymore. Least of all, to your…
friend.”
White pondered that; he wouldn’t certainly let Gardenia kill Grover,
despite the fact that the latter certainly would deserve such a fate. He had read the report of what had happened
twenty-five years earlier. He knew how badly Grover had then mistreated the boy
he had kidnapped from his family. How
he had nearly killed him, having no intention of giving him back, despite the
ransom he was to receive. That young
Adam had escaped that fate was pure dumb luck.
White had also seen the recording John Svenson had made when Grover had
contacted him earlier. The way he had
already beaten Captain Blue, it was not only to intimidate his father into
paying a new ransom. It wasn’t even about money. It was obvious Grover had
nothing else in mind but revenge. He
wanted blood.
John Svenson had understood that, White knew, and he could himself
comprehend the man’s anguish for his eldest son. He could also understand his concern at seeing Spectrum getting
involved, and his anger at being pushed aside, during this operation to save
Adam. If he had had a son, and a brutal
criminal had threatened his life in order to get to him, as was presently the
case for the Svensons, White wasn’t so sure he would have acted any
differently. As he wasn’t so sure the
kidnapper would have survived an encounter with him.
As much as it would be fitting for Grover to
meet his end by the hand of Gardenia, Colonel White couldn’t bring himself to
give his agreement to this. It would be
in opposition to all he believed in, and everything that he and his
organization stood for. Yet, he sensed
that a refusal might make Gardenia back off. As afraid as Gardena was of Spectrum’s involvement in this affair
– and it was so very obvious he didn’t like that at all – he was also very
concerned that Grover would prove too hazardous a loose end if left alive. The best thing for now, the colonel decided,
was to let Gardenia think he had got his way.
There would be time later to improvise.
“I just want Adam Svenson, Mister Gardenia,”
White said, his voice as even as before,
“before that maniac can do him more harm than he has already done. I know that he has hurt him already. And I have no intention of letting him
continue this game for long.”
Gardenia nodded at these words. He then moved toward his desk, and picked up
the phone, pressing a button.
“Emilio,” he called, “Would you go to the
bunker, and bring back our guest, please?”
He looked over to White and saw him relax a little, upon hearing the
request. “And don’t hurt him,” he
continued. “Yes, just bring him to
me. And try to see if Grover is around
too. I want a word with him.” Without anything else to add, Gardenia hung
up, and then turned to face White. “Satisfied now, Mister Gray?”
“Mister Gardenia,” White replied still very
evenly, “I won’t be fully satisfied
until I see Adam Svenson in front of me.
Safe and sound.”
* * *
Through the radio relay provided by Destiny to the speakers in his
glasses, Captain Scarlet had been able to follow the conversation in Gardenia’s
office. Now, along with the Angel, and
John Svenson who he knew was listening closely to what was going on, the
captain knew that, in theory, Adam would soon be released from his tormentor
and back to safety. He wasn’t ready to
cry victory, yet. He knew that there
could still be some hitches to the operation.
Like the colonel, he wouldn’t be satisfied until he actually saw Adam.
He knew that Destiny shared the same concern, but neither voiced the thought;
Destiny had reported that, since he had heard Gardenia’s last words, John
Svenson had relaxed considerably.
Keeping Svenson as calm as possible, and under control, considering the
situation, was foremost in the Spectrum agents’ minds.
Now it seemed assured, however, that Colonel White wasn’t in any danger,
so Scarlet relaxed his surveillance a little, leaving Destiny to maintain a
close watch on things. However, if any
kind of trouble should arise, the captain would be ready to intervene
instantly. In any case, he would
probably be called upon soon, if just to take delivery of Captain Blue. After having seen that awful recording of
his captivity, Scarlet didn’t doubt that his friend would need assistance to
walk out of this place. He would be
there to help. In the meantime, since
he could do nothing but wait, and so he wouldn’t attract too much attention, he
began a new game of solitaire, his mind not really on it.
That’s when he noticed a presence near him.
“Hello, handsome.”
He looked up; a woman was standing in front of him, offering her most
angelic smile. Scarlet raised an
eyebrow when he recognized one of the girls who had flocked around Colonel White
at the blackjack table. One of those to
whom White had given some chips.
Without being invited, she sat down on the empty chair beside him; and
got very close. “What’s a guy like you doing all by your lonesome?” She took his glass and drank a large gulp of
it, before a perplexed Scarlet could react.
“Want to buy me a drink?”
“I’m sorry,” Scarlet replied with a bashful smile. “But… I’ve been washed out at the tables.”
“Oh, really?” She closed in on him; she was so near that her cheap
perfume became really overwhelming.
“You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have anything left, hon. They don’t
allow people without cash in the Guests Lounge. Did you sneak in, perhaps? Tito, the bouncer guarding the door… He’s
very strict about it. If he finds out
you’re out of money, he’ll have you thrown out.”
“You’d tell him?” Scarlet asked, unsure.
Her smiled went wider. “Naaa… I wouldn’t do that to a hunk like ya...
who has such an adorable accent. I have a thing for guys with an accent.”
So I noticed, Scarlet thought to himself,
remembering how she’d been all over White.
He nearly chuckled over the thought but then, the thought quickly
disappeared, as she started playing with HIS jacket. Now she had settled her
sights on HIM. Scarlet felt a bit
embarrassed.
“Come on, just one drink,” she insisted. “And a little company?
You’ll draw attention if you stay on your own like this!”
“She has a point, Captain.” That
was Destiny’s voice in Scarlet’s ears.
He could hear the annoying snigger behind it. She was apparently enjoying herself. Tremendously. “You’d better keep her around. Just to be around.” There was a small hesitation, then she
continued, in a mocking voice. “Of course, you’d better behave yourself… Or
nothing will stop me telling Dianne…” Scarlet scowled. Of course, he knew she was only teasing him,
but it didn’t make the situation less discomfiting. On the contrary.
That’s when the lights suddenly went off in the room, to be replaced by
a softer, more ambient light. Scarlet was wondering what was going on, until he
saw the bald Black man who had been with Guido earlier stepping onto the stage,
into a bright spotlight. He figured out there was some kind of show about to
begin. The woman with him was settling
herself comfortably on her newly acquired chair; still so very close to him, it
was making his skin prickle. He saw her
wave to the barman and him nodding in answer.
Obviously, she had asked for a drink, and the barman knew perfectly well
what she would like.
And Scarlet had a pretty good idea WHO was going to pay for it.
“I’ll stick with you, handsome,” she declared. “We can watch the show together, do you mind? I’m sure you’ll love it.”
“I’ll take your word for it, er…”
“You can call me Dolly, honey.”
She pointed to the stage, where the Black man was adjusting the mic.
“You know, I performed on that stage, not so long ago?”
“Why did you stop?”
She shrugged. “I got involved with a client. Performers aren’t allowed to do that, house rules. So they put me on another job…”
“I see.”
“But… that incident brought me close to a fantastic guy. He became my
boyfriend.”
“The client in question?” She
nodded. Scarlet seemed puzzled. “And he doesn’t mind that you… do this new
kind of job now?”
“Oh, not at all! I’m not with
him anymore.”
Scarlet nodded at the innocent way the young woman had stated that fact,
apparently so natural to her. He was looking at her with even more perplexity. Well, we do meet INTERESTING people in this
business, he mused.
“Ladies and gentlemen…” That was
from the man standing on the stage.
Distractedly, Scarlet turned toward him. “I know a lot of you regulars are waiting for our Lady Marlena to
make her performance tonight, but, I’m sorry to announce that, due to sickness,
she won’t be here tonight…” Protests started
to make themselves heard from all corners of the lounge. Scarlet was barely taking any notice;
wanting to keep track of what was going on in the room where Gardenia had taken
the colonel, he was busy adjusting the volume of his speakers, manipulating the
frame of his glasses as inconspicuously as he could, the semi-darkness helping
him.
“Now I know you’re all disappointed, especially you, gents…” There were
some laughs, and the Black man smiled a little. “… But have no fear, ‘cause the
management of the ‘First Base Casino’
has found a replacement for your favourite lounge singer…” A waitress had come to Scarlet’s table and
put two glasses on it; she then stood beside him, waiting. The Brit quickly left the adjustment of his
speakers to take his wallet from his pocket, in order to pay her. “So now,” the man on stage continued, his
voice taking a stronger tone, “it is our pleasure tonight, to introduce you to
the house’s newest sensation. Ladies and gentlemen, bid a warm welcome to the
talented, delightful and very beautiful… SYMPHONY!”
The money Scarlet was about to give the waitress literally dropped from
his hand to hers. He nearly jumped on
his seat upon hearing the name and turned around quickly, eyes wide open with
astonishment, hoping he hadn’t heard what he thought he had heard.
The spotlight had left the man and a new one was now illuminating
another, slender figure, standing right in the middle of the stage, wearing a
long ruby red dress that revealed a large portion of bare back, which was
turned to the audience. The musicians, barely noticeable in the background, had
started their first notes, and Scarlet kept on staring, his frown now very
deep, as the singer began her song, in a low, and very slow note:
* * *
Wilson Grover and Wesley Dawson had dragged a half-conscious Adam
Svenson through the dark corridor leading out of the bunker situated under the First Base Casino. Still stunned by his last punishment and the
blow to his head, the Spectrum captain was hardly able to put one foot in front
of the other. He was simply hauled
along, unable to resist, his arms
secured tightly against his torso. He
couldn’t see a thing, as they had left the obnoxious tape on his eyes, and
neither could he call out for help. In
fear that he would alert Gardenia’s men, they had gagged him. Dejà vu, Blue thought, dazedly. It really felt as if he was reliving the
events of twenty-five years ago.
It was in total silence that they progressed along the corridor, and
climbed some steps, forcing their captive along with them. As they arrived at the top, they pushed open
a door. Then, they stopped to take a
breather, and listened; Blue could hear some music. Not very clearly, almost drowned out by his two captors’ heavy
breathing.
“We’re almost there,” growled Grover. The door they had pushed was a
concealed panel, that lead into a cold room plunged in semi-darkness, filled
with rack upon rack of bottles. It was the casino’s special cellar, where
Gardenia kept his best bottles; these were reserved for the Guests Lounge,
right over their heads. Grover nodded
to their left, where they could see a door. “What’s Sam doing?” he
grumbled. “We can’t wait here long!” Sam Dawson had been sent up front to check
if the coast was clear, before the two others moved out with the captive. Grover took it as a bad omen that he hadn’t
shown his face yet.
A creaking sound made itself heard, and then footsteps coming down the
stairs. Grover looked into the
direction of the door leading up to the casino. “Somebody’s coming!” With
Wesley, he rushed Blue behind the shelves, into a dark section of the
room. The prisoner was pushed against
the wall, and forcibly kept there. A
moan barely escaped the gag, as Blue’s still throbbing head roughly connected
with the surface. He heard a click,
then something cold and sharp grazed his throat. “Not a sound, Svenson!” he heard the murmured warning of Grover. “Or you’re a dead man!”
Blue couldn’t see the knife that was held against his throat, but he had
little doubt that Grover would gladly kill him. In any case, he wasn’t in any shape to offer much resistance; it
was all he could do to stay conscious.
Grover and Dawson watched in total silence as the door opened and a man
walked into the cellar. The music
coming from upstairs came a little more clearly to their ears, as the man,
holding the door open, had stopped to light a cigarette. In the feeble light, Grover recognized
Emilio, one of Gardenia’s most trusted aides, a man he knew was thoroughly
loyal to his boss.
Through the thick haze that still clouded his mind, Blue heard the music
as if from far away. And yet, he knew it wasn’t that far. He wondered where it
could be coming from, and where he might be to hear it. He had recognized the melody; it was an old
song still heard in some old-fashioned cabarets.
So let me get right to the point,
I don't pop my cork for every guy I see!
Blue froze. He thought he had recogniz