If Tomorrow Comes (36 page)

She could hardly speak. “Jeff, I—”

But he was gone.

Tracy had only the haziest recollection of what happened next. There was a change of clothes for her in back of the warehouse, and some woman said, “You look ill, mademoiselle. Do you wish me to call a doctor?”

“No doctors,” Tracy whispered.

There will be a plane ticket for Geneva waiting for you at the Swissair counter. Get out of Amsterdam as fast as you can. As soon as the police learn of the robbery, they’ll close up the city tight. Nothing will go wrong, but just in case, here is the address and the key to a safe house in Amsterdam. It is unoccupied.

The airport. She had to get to the airport. “Taxi,” she mumbled. “Taxi.”

The woman hesitated a moment, then shrugged. “All right. I will call one. Wait here.”

She was floating higher and higher now, ever closer to the sun.

“Your taxi is here,” a man was saying.

She wished people would stop bothering her. She wanted only to sleep.

The driver said, “Where do you wish to go, mademoiselle?”

There will be a plane ticket for Geneva waiting for you at the Swissair counter.

She was too ill to board a plane. They would stop her, summon a doctor. She would be questioned. All she needed was to sleep for a few minutes, then she would be fine.

The voice was getting impatient. “Where to, please?”

She had no place to go. She gave the taxi driver the address of the safe house.

The police were cross-examining her about the diamonds, and when she refused to answer them, they became very angry and put her in a room by herself and turned up the heat until the room was boiling hot. When it became unbearable, they dropped the temperature down, until icicles began to form on the walls.

Tracy pushed her way up through the cold and opened her eyes. She was on a bed, shivering uncontrollably. There was a blanket beneath her, but she did not have the strength to get under it. Her dress was soaked through, and her face and neck were wet.

I’m going to die here. Where was here?

The safe house. I’m in the safe house.
And the phrase struck her as so funny that she started to laugh, and the laughter turned into a paroxysm of coughing. It had all gone wrong. She had not gotten away after all. By now the police would be combing Amsterdam for her:
Mademoiselle Whitney had a ticket on Swissair and did not use it? Then she still must be in Amsterdam.

She wondered how long she had been in this bed. She lifted her wrist to look at her watch, but the numbers were blurred. She was seeing everything double. There were two beds in the small room and two dressers and four chairs. The shivering stopped, and her body was burning up. She needed to open a window, but she was too weak to move. The room was freezing again.

She was back on the airplane, locked in the crate, screaming for help.

You’ve made it! You’re a marvel. Let’s have the box.

Jeff had taken the diamonds, and he was probably on his way to Brazil with her share of the money. He would be enjoying himself with one of his women, laughing at her. He had beaten her once more. She hated him. No. She didn’t. Yes, she did. She despised him.

She was in and out of delirium. The hard pelota ball was hurtling toward her, and Jeff grabbed her in his arms and pushed her to the ground, and his lips were very close to hers, and then they were having dinner at Zalacaín.
Do you know how special you are, Tracy?

I offer you a draw
, Boris Melnikov said.

Her body was trembling again, out of control, and she was on an express train whirling through a dark tunnel, and at the end of the tunnel she knew she was going to die. All the other passengers had gotten off except Alberto Fornati. He was angry with her, shaking her and screaming at her.

“For Christ’s sake!” he yelled. “Open your eyes! Look at me!”

With a superhuman effort, Tracy opened her eyes, and Jeff was standing over her. His face was white, and there was fury in his voice. Of course, it was all a part of her dream.

“How long have you been like this?”

“You’re in Brazil,” Tracy mumbled.

After that, she remembered nothing more.

When Inspector Trignant was given the scarf with the initials TW on it, found on the floor of the Air France cargo plane, he stared at it for a long time.

Then he said, “Get me Daniel Cooper.”

The picturesque village of Alkmaar, on the northwest coast of Holland facing the North Sea, is a popular tourist attraction, but there is a quarter in the eastern section that tourists seldom visit. Jeff Stevens had vacationed there several times with a stewardess from KLM who had taught him the language. He remembered the area well, a place where the residents minded their own business and were not unduly curious about visitors. It was a perfect place to hide out.

Jeff’s first impulse had been to rush Tracy to a hospital, but that was too dangerous. It was also risky for her to remain in Amsterdam a minute longer. He had wrapped her in blankets and carried her out to the car, where she had remained unconscious during the drive to Alkmaar. Her pulse was erratic and her breathing shallow.

In Alkmaar, Jeff checked into a small inn. The innkeeper watched curiously as Jeff carried Tracy upstairs to her room.

“We’re honeymooners,” Jeff explained. “My wife became ill—a slight respiratory disturbance. She needs rest.”

“Would you like a doctor?”

Jeff was not certain of the answer himself. “I’ll let you know.”

The first thing he had to do was try to bring down Tracy’s fever. Jeff lowered her onto the large double bed in the room and began to strip off her clothes, sodden with perspiration. He held her up in a sitting position and lifted her dress over her head. Shoes next, then pantyhose. Her body was hot to the touch. Jeff wet a towel with cool water and gently bathed her from head to foot. He covered her with a blanket and sat at the bedside listening to her uneven breathing.

If she’s not better by morning
, Jeff decided,
I’ll have to bring in a doctor.

In the morning the bedclothes were soaked again. Tracy was still unconscious, but it seemed to Jeff that her breathing was a little easier. He was afraid to let the maid see Tracy; it would lead to too many questions. Instead, he asked the housekeeper for a change of linens and took them inside the room. He washed Tracy’s body with a moist towel, changed the sheets on the bed the way he had seen nurses do in hospitals, without disturbing the patient, and covered her up again.

Jeff put a
DO NOT DISTURB
sign on the door and went looking for the nearest pharmacy. He bought aspirin, a thermometer, a sponge, and rubbing alcohol. When he returned to the room, Tracy was still not awake. Jeff took her temperature: 104 degrees. He sponged her body with the cool alcohol, and her fever dropped.

An hour later her temperature was up again. He was going to have to call a doctor. The problem was that the doctor would insist Tracy be taken to a hospital. Questions would be asked. Jeff had no idea whether the police were looking for them, but if they were, they would both be taken into custody. He had to do something. He mashed up four aspirins, placed the powder between Tracy’s lips, and gently spooned water into her mouth until she finally swallowed. Once again he bathed her body. After he had finished drying her, it seemed to him that her skin was not as hot as it had been. He checked her pulse once more. It seemed steadier. He put his head to her chest and listened. Was her breathing less congested? He could not
be certain. He was sure of only one thing, and he repeated it over and over until it became a litany: “You’re going to get well.” He kissed her gently on the forehead.

Jeff had not slept in forty-eight hours, and he was exhausted and hollow-eyed.
I’ll sleep later
, he promised himself.
I’ll close my eyes to rest them a moment.

He slept.

When Tracy opened her eyes and watched the ceiling slowly come into focus, she had no idea where she was. It took long minutes for awareness to seep into her consciousness. Her body felt battered and sore, and she had the feeling that she had returned from a long, wearying journey. Drowsily, she looked around the unfamiliar room, and her heart suddenly skipped a beat. Jeff was slumped in an armchair near the window, asleep. It was impossible. The last time she had seen him, he had taken the diamonds and left. What was he doing here? And with a sudden, sinking sensation, Tracy knew the answer: She had given him the wrong box—the box with the fake diamonds—and Jeff thought she had cheated him. He must have picked her up at the safe house and taken her to wherever this place was.

As she sat up, Jeff stirred and opened his eyes. When he saw Tracy looking at him, a slow, happy grin lit his face.

“Welcome back.” There was a note of such intense relief in his voice that Tracy was confused.

“I’m sorry,” Tracy said. Her voice was a hoarse whisper. “I gave you the wrong box.”

“What?”

“I mixed up the boxes.”

He walked over to her and said gently, “No, Tracy. You gave me the real diamonds. They’re on their way to Gunther.”

She looked at him in bewilderment. “Then—why—why are you here?”

He sat on the edge of the bed. “When you handed me the diamonds, you looked like death. I decided I’d better wait at the airport to make sure you caught your flight. You didn’t show up, and I knew you were in trouble. I went to the safe house and found you. I couldn’t just let you die there,” he
said lightly. “It would have been a clue for the police.”

She was watching him, puzzled. “Tell me the real reason you came back for me.”

“Time to take your temperature,” he said briskly.

“Not bad,” he told her a few minutes later. “Little over a hundred. You’re a wonderful patient.”

“Jeff—”

“Trust me,” he said. “Hungry?”

Tracy was suddenly ravenous. “Starved.”

“Good. I’ll bring something in.”

He returned from shopping with a bag full of orange juice, milk, and fresh fruit, and large Dutch
broodjes
, rolls filled with different kinds of cheese, meat, and fish.

“This seems to be the Dutch version of chicken soup, but it should do the trick. Now, eat slowly.”

He helped her sit up, and fed her. He was careful and tender, and Tracy thought, warily,
He’s after something.

As they were eating, Jeff said, “While I was out, I telephoned Gunther. He received the diamonds. He deposited your share of the money in your Swiss bank account.”

She could not keep herself from asking, “Why didn’t you keep it all?”

When Jeff answered, his tone was serious. “Because it’s time we stopped playing games with each other, Tracy. Okay?”

It was another one of his tricks, of course, but she was too tired to worry about it. “Okay.”

“If you’ll tell me your sizes,” Jeff said, “I’ll go out and buy some clothes for you. The Dutch are liberal, but I think if you walked around like that they might be shocked.”

Tracy pulled the covers up closer around her, suddenly aware of her nakedness. She had a vague impression of Jeff’s undressing her and bathing her. He had risked his own safety to nurse her. Why? She had believed she understood him.
I don’t understand him at all
, Tracy thought.
Not at all.

She slept.

In the afternoon Jeff brought back two suitcases filled with robes and nightgowns, underwear, dresses, and shoes, and a
makeup kit and a comb and brush and hair dryer, toothbrushes and toothpaste. He also had purchased several changes of clothes for himself and brought back the
International Herald Tribune.
On the front page was a story about the diamond hijacking; the police had figured out how it had been committed, but according to the newspaper, the thieves had left no clues.

Jeff said cheerfully, “We’re home free! Now all we have to do is get you well.”

It was Daniel Cooper who had suggested that the scarf with the initials TW be kept from the press. “We know,” he had told Inspector Trignant, “who it belongs to, but it’s not enough evidence for an indictment. Her lawyers would produce every woman in Europe with the same initials and make fools of you.”

In Cooper’s opinion, the police had already made fools of themselves.
God will give her to me.

He sat in the darkness of the small church, on a hard wooden bench, and he prayed:
Oh, make her mine, Father. Give her to me to punish so that I may wash myself of my sins. The evil in her spirit shall be exorcised, and her naked body shall be flagellated…
And he thought about Tracy’s naked body in his power and felt himself getting an erection. He hurried from the church in terror that God would see and inflict further punishment on him.

When Tracy awoke, it was dark. She sat up and turned on the lamp on the bedside table. She was alone. He had gone. A feeling of panic washed over her. She had allowed herself to grow dependent on Jeff, and that had been a stupid mistake.
It serves me right
, Tracy thought bitterly. “Trust me,” Jeff had said, and she had. He had taken care of her only to protect himself, not for any other reason. She had come to believe that he felt something for her. She had
wanted
to trust him,
wanted
to feel that she meant something to him. She lay back on her pillow and closed her eyes, thinking,
I’m going to miss him. Heaven help me, I’m going to miss him.

God had played a cosmic joke on her. Why did it have to
be
him
? she wondered, but the reason did not matter. She would have to make plans to leave this place as soon as possible, find someplace where she could get well, where she could feel safe.
Oh, you bloody fool
, she thought.
You
—

There was the sound of the door opening, and Jeff’s voice called out, “Tracy, are you awake? I brought you some books and magazines. I thought you might—” He stopped as he saw the expression on her face. “Hey! Is something wrong?”

“Not now,” Tracy whispered. “Not now.”

The following morning Tracy’s fever was gone.

“I’d like to get out,” she said. “Do you think we could go for a walk, Jeff?”

They were a curiosity in the lobby. The couple who owned the hotel were delighted by Tracy’s recovery. “Your husband was so wonderful. He insisted on doing everything for you himself. He was so worried. A woman is lucky to have a man who loves her so much.”

Tracy looked at Jeff, and she could have sworn he was blushing.

Outside, Tracy said, “They’re very sweet.”

“Sentimentalists,” Jeff retorted.

Jeff had arranged for a cot to sleep on, placed next to Tracy’s bed. As Tracy lay in bed that night, she remembered again how Jeff had taken care of her, tended to her needs, and nursed her and bathed her naked body. She was powerfully aware of his presence. It made her feel protected.

It made her feel nervous.

Slowly, as Tracy grew stronger, she and Jeff spent more time exploring the quaint little town. They walked to the Alkmaar-der Meer, along winding, cobblestone streets that dated from the Middle Ages, and spent hours at the tulip fields on the outskirts of the city. They visited the cheese market and the old weighing house, and went through the municipal museum. To Tracy’s surprise, Jeff spoke to the townspeople in Dutch.

“Where did you learn that?” Tracy asked.

“I used to know a Dutch girl.”

She was sorry she had asked.

As the days passed Tracy’s healthy young body gradually healed itself. When Jeff felt that Tracy was strong enough, he rented bicycles, and they visited the windmills that dotted the countryside. Each day was a lovely holiday, and Tracy wanted it never to end.

Jeff was a constant surprise. He treated Tracy with a concern and tenderness that melted her defenses against him, yet he made no sexual advances. He was an enigma to Tracy. She thought of the beautiful women with whom she had seen him, and she was sure he could have had any of them. Why was he staying by her side in this tiny backwater of the world?

Tracy found herself talking about things she had thought she would never discuss with anyone. She told Jeff about Joe Romano and Tony Orsatti, and about Ernestine Littlechap and Big Bertha and little Amy Brannigan. Jeff was by turns outraged and distressed and sympathetic. Jeff told her about his stepmother and his Uncle Willie and about his carnival days and his marriage to Louise. Tracy had never felt so close to anyone.

Suddenly it was time to leave.

One morning Jeff said, “The police aren’t looking for us, Tracy. I think we should be moving on.”

Tracy felt a stab of disappointment. “All right. When?”

“Tomorrow.”

She nodded. “I’ll pack in the morning.”

That night Tracy lay awake, unable to sleep. Jeff’s presence seemed to fill the room as never before. This had been an unforgettable period in her life, and it was coming to an end. She looked over at the cot where Jeff lay.

“Are you asleep?” Tracy whispered.

“No…”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Tomorrow. Leaving this place. I’ll miss it.”

“I’m going to miss you, Jeff.” The words were out before she could stop herself.

Jeff sat up slowly and looked at her. “How much?” he asked softly.

“Terribly.”

A moment later he was at her bedside. “Tracy—”

“Shhh. Don’t talk. Just put your arms around me. Hold me.”

It started slowly, a velvet touching and stroking and feeling, a caressing and gentle exploring of the senses. And it began to build and swell in a frenzied, frantic rhythm, until it became a bacchanal, an orgy of pleasure, wild and savage. His hard organ stroked her and pounded her and filled her until she wanted to scream with the unbearable joy. She was at the center of a rainbow. She felt herself being swept up on a tidal wave that lifted her higher and higher, and there was a sudden molten explosion within her, and her whole body began to shudder. Gradually, the tempest subsided. She closed her eyes. She felt Jeff’s lips move down her body, down, down to the center of her being, and she was caught up in another fierce wave of blissful sensation.

She pulled Jeff to her and held him close, feeling his heart beat against hers. She strained against him, but still she could not get close enough. She crept to the foot of the bed and touched her lips to his body with soft, tender kisses, moving upward until she felt his hard maleness in her hand. She stroked it softly and slid it into her mouth, and listened to his moans of pleasure. Then Jeff rolled on top of her and was inside her and it began again, more exciting than before, a fountain spilling over with unbearable pleasure, and Tracy thought,
Now I know. For the first time, I know. But I must remember that this is just for tonight, a lovely farewell present.